


Driven

by LadyKes



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKes/pseuds/LadyKes
Summary: Life had been far more predictable before Miss Fisher’s repatriation.  Jack went to work, tried to maintain law, order, or both, drank very bad tea, and then went home.  On a good day, he’d even be able to eat lunch.He hadn’t had lunch all week.





	Driven

He was going to go mad. No, strike that, he was going to be _driven_ mad. And the driver was Miss Fisher, which meant that he might or might not survive the journey.

Life had been far more predictable before Miss Fisher’s repatriation. Jack went to work, tried to maintain law, order, or both, drank very bad tea, and then went home. On a good day, he’d even be able to eat lunch.

He hadn’t had lunch all week.

He’d intended to, of course he’d intended to, but he’d been reluctantly investigating a series of bank robberies since Monday morning and everyone knew what they said about good intentions, especially when it came to lunch breaks. None of the banks were actually in his jurisdiction, but one of them had housed Miss Williams’ mother’s meagre savings. Because that bank did house those savings, Constable Collins, Miss Fisher, Yates, and Johnson had all, in their own very different ways, made it clear that they thought Jack needed to be involved in the investigation. So he had become involved, and it had been more than a bit of fancy footwork to take it out of the hands of the DI who had been handling it, too. 

So far, he’d been able to conclude from the case notes that the crimes had occurred over several months and had featured remarkably stupid robbers. That really should have made the constabulary’s task easier, but they’d also largely featured notably useless clerks, not to mention that the initial investigations had been assigned to a few coppers who were perhaps a bit too close to retirement. It wasn’t that they’d done a bad job exactly, but they certainly could have done a slightly better one. Jack was now trying to do that better job and it was resulting in no lunch. 

“Sir, a fingerprint on the underside edge of one of the desks matches a Robert Baker of Collingwood. He’s in the files for drunk and disorderly,” Collins informed him as he leaned in from the front lobby, and Jack sat up straight.

“Big Robbo?” Jack repeated, thinking carefully. Big Robbo had been a suspect based on a witness description, but they’d had no evidence. Big Robbo didn’t bank anywhere, including the place the witness had said he’d seen him. In fact, Big Robbo had said he preferred the “Bank of Doona” to anything else when questioned. 

“Right, Collins, we’ll bring him in.” Jack gathered his overcoat and his hat, then closed his office door with a silent sigh. There would be no lunch today either. 

A day later, they had a confession. Big Robbo had insisted at first that he wasn’t involved, wouldn’t be involved, and they couldn’t possibly prove that he was involved, but a night in the most uncomfortable cell in the station and the revelation that they had evidence that he was at the scene had changed his tune. As it turned out, the desk he’d left a fingerprint on had belonged to a rather buxom clerk. She’d been utterly appalled by his attempts to flirt, but he hadn’t even noticed that, much less noticing that he’d left a fingerprint. As Miss Fisher might have noted, men like Big Robbo tended to have an overly high opinion of themselves and their attractiveness. 

So that was that, and Jack settled back into his chair. He had a report to complete and loads of paperwork to do other than that, but he hoped there might be a chance for lunch today. It was probably a vain hope, but it was a hope nonetheless. 

His office door opened before he got past the first paragraph of the first witness statement, because that was just the way his week was going. He was ready to tell Collins to come back later, except it wasn’t Collins. Well, it wasn’t just Collins, anyway. Miss Fisher sailed through the door carrying one of her larger wicker baskets and placed it squarely on his desk.

“You don’t look like Little Red Riding Hood,” he observed, but he also sniffed at the aromas coming out of the basket.

“I think I’m much more of the wolf type than the innocent little girl type, Jack,” Miss Fisher agreed as she sat down on his visitor chair. She crossed her legs, which showed a slightly distracting amount of leg, then leaned forward to push the basket further towards him.

“My, what a big basket you have,” he said dryly, and she dimpled a smile.

“I heard from a little birdie that you’ve caught the bank robber and he was willing to admit where he stashed his ill-gotten gains, or at least what was left of his gains after he played the ponies. So that means Dot’s mum’s savings will be safe,” she explained. 

How she learned things that were not intended to be for public knowledge was one of her many talents, but in this case, he thought his Constable was the culprit. 

“All of that is true, though none of it is anything you should know. Is this my payment for a job well done then?”

“I also heard that you haven’t had any lunch this week because you’ve been working on this case. So I have taken it upon myself to provide you with lunch,” she told him airily, then paused. “Well, I have taken it upon myself to make sure that Dot and Mr. Butler provide me with lunch, which I am now providing to you.”

He sniffed again, then raised his eyebrows at one of the smells. 

“And I presume from the smell of a well-executed crumble that you have told Miss Williams that I was the final recipient of this bounty?”

“Of course. Don’t think I didn’t notice you taking three pieces last time you were over for dinner.”

“I would never presume that you failed to notice anything, Miss Fisher,” he said seriously. 

“Good. Then you should also be aware that I have noticed you haven’t agreed to eat anything yet. Shall I spoon-feed you, Jack?”

She would do it, and they both knew she would. 

“Er, no, I’ve been capable of feeding myself for many years now, Miss Fisher, despite any current appearances to the contrary,” he told her, and leaned forward to examine the dishes as she laid them out ... all over his paperwork.

He might not survive this journey, but he certainly would enjoy it.


End file.
